Dinner And A Little Conversation
by Katt9966
Summary: Vic does all the talking.


Title: - Dinner and a Little Conversation

Author: - Katt

Rating: -M

Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know

Archive: - Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive

Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Author's Note: - Something a little bitter/sweet, just like the best chocolate, written for Whipper for Easter.

Dinner and a Little Conversation

"Hey Vic, we missed you yesterday."

"Yeah well, work you know how it is." Vic shrugged. "How is he?"

"Fine, that slight temperature he was running is gone, and he had a quiet night…no dreams."

Vic had stayed a few nights, well more than a "few" nights, so he knew all about the dreams that caused tears, fear and bewilderment.

"Good to hear."

"It's dinner-time, would you like to take him his tray?"

"Sure, that'd be good."

Taking the proffered tray Vic strolled down the corridor to the familiar room where he spent so much of his off-duty time now. There was talk he knew that, but he couldn't give a shit what anyone thought, and no one was stupid enough to say anything to his face.

Not bothering to knock Vic balanced the dinner tray on one hand while he opened the door and stepped into the room.

The room was a typical hospital room. Pastel walls, a TV high up in one corner, a door into an ensuite bathroom, a couple of chairs, a table next to the bed, a second table that could be swung over the bed or to one side, and one large window, the blinds of which had been drawn apart. As he walked across towards the bed Vic could hear music softly playing from the portable CD player on the bedside table. Some classical stuff, not his taste, but he knew that the man in the bed enjoyed it, he found it restful, _"food for the soul" _he'd once told Vic. Vic was pleased that one of the nurses had taken the time to switch it on, but paused to switch it off so that he could talk undisturbed. The occupant of the bed was facing away from the door looking towards the window. He didn't turn when Vic entered the room; but then again Vic hadn't expected him to.

Walking around the bed Vic placed the meal tray on the mobile table, and, without looking at the man in the bed, he strolled over to the window and looked out too. It was raining, had been all day, sunny California not quite living up to its hype. Tiny rivulets of water ran down the glass, chasing each other, joining together to form larger rivulets, criss-crossing the pane. Staring down at the hospital car park three stories below Vic finally spoke for the first time since entering the room,

"Shitty fucking weather, still it's kept the shit-heads off the streets, guess even drug dealers don't like to get wet. Means they're just dealing from the nearest crack house, but still. We went out and rousted a few today, not much else to do, and sitting in the Club House with a bored Shane was driving me nuts. You're right you know, sometimes the guy is like a squirrel on crack…just don't tell him I'm agreeing with you.

Claudette said to tell you she'll be by tomorrow…yeah, I know it's a miracle she's actually talking to me. I know she's your partner and all, but sometimes she can be so fucking self-righteous, looks at me like I'm something she scraped off her shoe. Gotta love watching her turn Aceveda down every time he tries to get her to team up with someone else though. And remember I told you 'bout that new guy they were sending us from Westwood, well he dumped his shit on your desk and I thought Claudette was gonna shoot him. One pissy look from her had him taking Gannon's old desk instead."

Vic sighed, and resisted the urge to lean forward and rest his forehead against the cool glass of the window, hospitals always kept their rooms too hot. Turning around he found a pair of midnight blue eyes gazing at him from the bed. The familiar burn of anger, and guilt, flashed through him.

"Fuck Dutchboy, I should've kept my big mouth shut. Had to tell you though. Couldn't leave it as a buddy fuck, two guys getting each other off, using each other for convenience. I had to get it all twisted round, make you do stupid fucking things…" Vic broke off, and turned away from those wide blue eyes, and that guileless face, turning back to the rain. Memories, images, thoughts that he'd turned over in his head a thousand times over the past five months, coming unbidden into his mind.

The first time born of anger and impatience. An argument over the handling of a witness in a joint case that had been brewing all day. Dutch with his superior sneer, and his patronizing attitude, walking away from Vic in the middle of a heated discussion in the breakroom. Just curling his lip and walking away like Vic wasn't worth his precious time. Pissed off Vic followed him into the bathroom slamming the door shut behind them, flipping on the lock. Dutch had turned towards him surprised, a little afraid, but trying to hide it. Dutch had painted his face with an arrogant mask, and Vic's eyes had been drawn to Dutch's mouth, watching his lips curl into an expression of disdain. An urge to hit, to hurt, burning red and hot, suddenly mutating into the desire to feel, to taste. Moving across the room with a speed that took Dutch by surprise. Shoving the younger man up against the wall, in his personal space, close enough he could feel Dutch's body heat, the feel of his body under his as Vic had pressed right up against him. The tremble that went through Dutch's body at his touch, the hitching breath that Dutch took, the exhale warm on Vic's face. Dutch had opened his mouth to speak, to protest, to say "yes", Vic didn't know which, didn't give him a chance to speak.

Dutch's lips had felt surprisingly soft under his, a little dry, but lush. He'd expected Dutch to push him away, instead he'd stilled for a moment, and then Dutch's hands had grabbed fistfuls of Vic's jacket, a low moan sounding in his throat that had made Vic so hard, so fast, it was a wonder he didn't pass out from a lack of blood to the brain.

Needy moans and whimpers, shaking hands undoing pants, hungry mouths, tongues moving against each other, fingers on hard flesh, a clumsy rhythm, and the first time was over far too soon.

The first time, and the last time, Vic had promised himself when he'd walked out of that bathroom. Leaving Dutch behind him looking shocked, but also sated, and so rumpled and sinful that Vic had felt his cock twitch even as he'd shut the bathroom door behind himself.

His resolve that what had happened between him and Dutch was a fluke, a one off, had lasted for about a week. That had been how long he'd been able to stand seeing the little anxious looks that Dutch kept shooting in his direction. That had been how long he'd been able to stand seeing the disappointment, and growing hurt, that haunted Dutch's eyes every time Vic turned away from him. That had been how long he'd been able to stand the nights spent fantasizing about all the things he wanted to do to Dutch. All the ways he wanted to touch him, take him, make him whisper Vic's name, make him make that little breathy moan low in his throat again when Vic kissed him.

He'd ended up at Dutch's house, saying nothing when Dutch had opened the door and stood aside to let him in. No words had been needed when he'd shoved Dutch up against the wall of his hallway, had dropped to his knees, and given Dutch a blow job that had left he younger man speechless for several minutes after he'd cum shouting Vic's name. Vic had decided then and there that he liked making Dutch speechless, and had began visiting Dutch's house a couple of times a week.

Hands, mouths, friction all brought pleasure and release. Then after about a month, and Vic dropping by nearly every day when possible, he had finally fully possessed the other man. Feeling the body under his trembling, tense muscles relaxing, trusting him, letting him in, sinking slowly, deeply, into the velvety, tight heat he craved. A week later Vic had reciprocated. Had felt the burn, the strange feeling of fullness, of invasion, turning into pleasure, into completeness.

Still Vic never stayed the night. An hours rest, an hours closeness, and then he'd slip out of the warm bed, quickly get dressed and leave, closing the bedroom door firmly behind himself. Sometimes he'd feel the stare of blue eyes watching him from out of the dark. Every time he forced himself out of Dutch's bed, the harder it got, the more he wanted to stay.

Until "that morning" when he'd stayed, and had woken up next to Dutch just as the first lights of dawn were colouring the sky. At Dutch's pleased, but puzzled, look, Vic had reached out and brushed his fingers across Dutch's lips, before leaning in for a kiss, and whispering in Dutch's ear that he loved him.

The happiness in Dutch's eyes had made Vic's heart soar, and he'd felt like the biggest and most powerful man in the world cause he'd made Dutch look like that. Dutch had smiled up at him, and told him he loved him to, "…more than anything…more than life." Just words, Vic had thought, Dutch always a little sentimental, and he'd laughed, and had reached out for the other man covering his body with his own, making love until the insistent alarm had dragged them back into the real world, and they'd had to get up for work.

One of Vic's CI's had given him a great tip for a meth lab. However, it was an operation that had required more personnel than just the strike team. Dutch had flashed a small smile at him before they'd gone in. It had been some stupid fucking kid who'd panicked and pulled the trigger. Some stupid fucking kid that Vic hadn't seen, but Dutch had.

In his dreams Vic saw it over and over in slow motion. Dutch calmly stepping in front of him, shielding him with his body. The snap of Dutch's head, the spray of blood that had splattered warm and wet across Vic's face, Dutch dropping to the floor. Shouts around them, more gunfire, the sound of some stupid fucking kid hitting the floor dead. The red pool of blood, glistening as it spread around Dutch's head like a viscous, macabre halo. Claudette pushing him out of the way. Paramedics pressing gauze against the gaping, obscene wound, latex gloves stained red, words shouted back and forth. Hours spent in the hospital waiting room. Day becoming night as they'd waited. Vic feeling numb, disconnected, alone.

Squeezing his eyes shut Vic pushed away the memories, but couldn't quite push away the anger, and guilt, and despair.

Looking back at Dutch, Vic couldn't prevent his gaze from falling on the awful scar on his head. Just above his left temple, the entry wound, even after all these months it still looked red and angry. The damage hidden behind it had taken away from Vic the man he'd known, the man he'd loved… No, Vic thought to himself, Dutch wasn't the same, but he was still Dutch, and Vic couldn't switch off his feelings for him, wouldn't abandon him.

Crossing the room Vic sat down on the chair by Dutch's bed and softly said,

"Why'd you have to be so dumb, huh? For a guy who's supposed to be so smart Dutch, stepping in front of that bullet was the stupidest thing you've ever done…except…except maybe letting me in that night I first came to your house. You should've told me to fuck off and shut the door in my face. Instead you end up making some grand romantic gesture cause I couldn't keep my mouth shut, and had to go and tell you that I loved you."

Dutch gazed passively back at him, Vic's words, Vic's pain, rolling over him like waves, leaving him untouched. The whole world rolled over Dutch these days; never breaking through into whatever fractured world he existed in.

"If I hadn't told you, maybe you'd still be here in the world with everybody else instead of…well, instead of wherever you are now." Vic sighed and sat back in the chair, and after a cold, cheerless laugh continued. "Who am I trying to kid, huh Dutchboy? Of course you would've done it anyway. Hell, you would've done it even if we'd never lost it that day in the bathroom. Never quite saw yourself as important as everybody else did you Dutch. Always thought you were…a little less than everyone else. Even I couldn't make you believe any different."

Vic leant forward again, and reaching out he brushed his fingers across Dutch's lips.

"I love you." He whispered.

Dutch just gazed back at him impassively, but in his head Vic heard Dutch's voice, _"I love you too, more than anything…more than life."_

Swallowing hard Vic dropped his gaze to the nearby table, and he reached out and drew the tray nearer to him.

"Well I don't know what that greeny, brown crap is supposed to be, but you do have strawberry Jell-O, so what do you say we start with dessert, and work our way up to the greeny, brown crap."

Picking up the bowl of Jell-O Vic took a spoonful, and carefully, and gently, slipped it into Dutch's mouth. The rain pattering against the window was the only sound in the room.


End file.
